by Adam Thomas
Imral stopped again, unable to find words. A feeling of dread crept up the back of Rhys’s neck. “Found what?” he asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.
Before Imral could answer, Wiggins called from the back of the group. “Stand close. I think I can do this.”
The gnomish wizard stood in the center of the group and spoke the spell. It was the most powerful magic he had ever cast. All eight of them – two elves, two humans, two half-elves, a gnome, and a dwarf, heroes all – vanished from the northern edge of the Dasost Forest…
...And appeared at the edge of a scene of carnage and devastation.
They stood atop the burial mound where they met Ashlyra’s spirit and where Rhys unwittingly took on the curse of Tyrevane. Now they looked out on the wicked fruit of that curse. The town stood smoldering in the distance. In between was laid out before them the nauseating spectacle of the dead bodies of the people of the Crossroads. At the center of the concentric rings of death stood Wrenyvar, Tyrevane held aloft ready to strike down a pitiful foe.
But there was no foe, and the goliath warlord was frozen in place. Indeed the entire area encompassing the bodies was encased in a faintly glowing orange bubble. Within the bubble nothing moved, not even the rustling of wind or buzzing of insects.
They heard a groan behind them and all eight turned as one. Archmage Halla Haeron lay in the grass, her ancient body covered in blood. Imral rushed to her side. “I stabilized her as best I could. Please, help her!”
Alurel, Emric, and Syne each poured their healing magics into the archmage, creating a brief bloom of buttery yellow light to rival the orange dome. Imral propped Halla up, sat behind her, and stroked the elder’s hair.
“I was just waking from my trance,” Halla began, her voice weak but growing stronger. “I felt a tremendous quake of power in the weave of magic. I could sense the malign intent, and I whisked Imral and myself here to find this horrible scene.”
She gestured her curled fingers towards the pattern of bodies. “They were already dead when I arrived, and that creature in the center had begun opening a portal. That was the power I felt in the weave. I stopped him. We did battle. But when I knew I could not defeat him, I froze time with him inside.”
Wiggins turned back to the dome. Wonder stole his breath, but he managed to rasp out. “But that spell only lasts for a minute at the longest. How did you?”
“An invention of mine called mage slate. It can store the power of a spell and lengthen it...indefinitely, at least theoretically. The slate is experimental. But with the force that creature is exerting, I wouldn’t think this one will last more than a thousand days, though I would plan on five hundred to be on the safe side.”
The B-Team looked again upon the magical dome of frozen time with Wrenyvar at the center. They had defeated hags, zombies, dragons, and vampires. But whatever they had released from Tyrevane was worse by far.
“Five hundred days to figure out how to defeat Wrenyvar,” Shonasir said, as their hand found Imral’s and they helped Halla Haeron to her feet.
“Five hundred days to learn about that sword,” Emric said, looking up at Rhys.
“Five hundred days to atone for this,” Rhys said, his face hardened against the grief welling inside him as he gazed up the grisly scene his blade had wrought.
“Five hundred days,” Alurel and Sorvek echoed.
The light of day broke fully over the plains of Arillon, illuminating the dome of magic and stretching their shadows behind them. Below their feet, deep within the burial mound, Ashlyra’s spirit whispered a prayer of courage to the Forever Sky.
author’s note
So, why are they called the B-Team?
When some clergy friends from here in Connecticut found out that I was a dungeon master and that I actually preferred to play D&D in that role, they asked me to run a game for them. I was so excited to do so, but I also knew how much work it is to home brew everything for a campaign. So I had the bright idea that I would run the second game concurrently with the first in the same world, sort of like the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Predictably, this turned out to be more work, not less, because harmonizing two stories on the fly was a big challenge. Also, the first group was at a much higher level than the group in this book, so the second group kept hearing about the exploits of the Shields of Sularil. Finally, they just decided to embrace their status as the less famous, less accomplished adventuring party, and the scrappy B-Team was born. But, as Alurel says, they like to think “B” stands for “Best.”
I wasn’t planning on writing the B-Team’s adventures into novel form like I did for the Shields of Sularil (you can find their four book series on my website, adamthomas.net). But in the middle of the summer of 2020, I had just finished writing a series of children’s fantasy books, and I needed to keep writing so the anxiety of the coronavirus pandemic wouldn’t steal my creativity. I had no new novel hooks brewing, so I decided to write up this story. I surprised my players with the first half at Christmas 2020 and finished the book in the middle of spring 2021.
This book is for them, with gratitude.
ballad of the b-team
book two
Coming Soon